TRANSFIGURED NIGHT Poem by Stefan Hertmans

Thinking of one thing
a person does something else;
he looks up at the sky

and walks a whole life long,
of which it's said
that all it represents
is submission to oneself.

The pebbles and the road
are answerable,
the murmuring of those
who have drawn closer,

the treacherous cry of dogs
and the high voice that falls quiet
beyond your small horizon,

you who came back
from a transfigured night,
my lightly obsessive love,

who sat opposite me and laughed
about the bloodstain on the window.